


Suspended Animation

by theherocomplex



Series: Guitar and Video Games [2]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Apritello, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/pseuds/theherocomplex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange to think there’s always something new to learn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suspended Animation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [franda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/franda/gifts).



> I loved the TMNT when I was a kid, but then pandasize brought me back to the fandom. I love the 2k12 version of Donnie, and wanted to tell more of his story. 
> 
> So: this (and all the fics in this particular 'verse) takes place ten years after the events of the 2k12 series. Donnie and his brothers are 25, April is 26, and Casey is 27.

For a life that’s spent fighting evil — for a life that should be impossible, if science and logic are to be believed — Donnie spends a great deal of time bored.

“How?” asks Mikey. He’s got wide-eyed innocence down to an art-form, but he can always be counted on to spoil his own effects. “How can you be  _bored_?”

Donnie tries to answer, but in the end he can’t muster anything more than a shrug. Mikey gapes at him, and gestures around the room, where the books, movies, video games, and even the half-finished game of Risk seem to exist to prove Donnie wrong.

“But — but —!” Mikey gives up on his sentence and glares at Donnie, like he’s taking personal offense at the way Donnie just rejected everything in the room. Chances are very good he is.

_Things aren’t the answer_ , Donnie wants to tell his brother. Since that would lead to questions about what the answer actually is, he leaves Mikey to yell at Grand Theft Auto V, and heads for the lab.

***

He’s not sixteen anymore, hasn’t been for almost a decade, but if he didn’t have the grey in Splinter’s fur and ten years’ worth of experiments to go by, he might not believe any time had passed. Leo is still the leader, Raph is still the angriest, Mikey is still the peacemaker. 

Donnie will always be the smart one. The designation is still a point of pride, but it’s a claustrophobic pride now.

_I don’t look any older_ , he thinks. He presses his tongue to the gap in his teeth.  _A few chips in the shell and that’s it._   

It’s a little like suspended animation. Maybe he sleeps a little more, maybe he can run a little faster, but a day or a century could pass between each time he goes above ground and he would barely notice. What’s the point of counting years if he and his brothers don’t change?

His computer chimes with an incoming message. He reads it, and types a quick — not too quick — reply.

There’s at least one point to counting.

_Be there in twenty._

***

April’s already set up on the roof of her building when he swings up the fire escape: a thermos full of coffee, two blankets, a flashlight. She’s using the flashlight to read, gnawing at her lower lip as she squints to see the fine print.

“You’ll ruin your eyes, reading like that,” he says by way of greeting.

She looks up and wrinkles her nose at him. “Hey you.” She marks her place with her finger and shuts the book. Her freckles have started to fade.

_Must be autumn_ , he thinks, and takes the seat next to her. April passes him the thermos and stretches while he drinks. It’s black, the way they both like it, tar-thick and hot enough to scald the roof of his mouth. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She tucks it between her feet and huddles under her blanket. “It’s getting cold. I know you guys hate the winter, but I can’t wait for snow.”

“Mmm.” They’re silent for a long time, handing the coffee back and forth until the thermos is empty. April fidgets. He nudges her; when she looks up, she’s embarrassed.

“Sorry. Just stressing about this test tomorrow.”

Donnie nudges her again. “You’ll be fine. You always are. I helped you study, remember?”

“All my successes are thanks to you, huh?” She laughs and pulls her hands from under the blanket. She’s holding two dandelions, the tops full and white as cotton.

“Wow, thanks,” he deadpans. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“Shut up,” she says, and laughs again. “They’re for luck.”

That’s new to him. He hasn’t been bored since he sat down, but this is  _interesting_. “For luck?”

“Yeah.” She presses one into his hands. “You blow the clocks — the seeds — off, and if you get them all, you get to make a wish. These two were growing down in front of my building. Figured I could use a good wish or two before tomorrow, but you can do this one. Just make sure you wish for the right thing.”

Donnie watches her blow the clocks away, into the wind and down into the alley between buildings, then imitates her.

“Aw, dammit,” says April. She tosses her stem to the roof. A few stubborn clocks still cling to the top. “Guess I might fail no matter how much you helped.”

He glances at the bare stem in his hand and smiles. “You’ll be fine,” he says. She sighs, and he almost feels bad that he made a different wish. Almost.

His wish has been waiting a lot longer than hers, after all.


End file.
